


Summertime Sadness.

by RocknRoll_Goddess



Category: Shefani, The Voice (US) RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:58:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7341826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocknRoll_Goddess/pseuds/RocknRoll_Goddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When your life as you knew it blows up in your face and 'hopeless' becomes your middle name, then maybe, possibly, your co-worker is all you need to turn your summertime sadness into a completely new beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Colleagues.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! :)  
> This is a story line i've been wanting to write about for a while now, but I never really knew how to cause there are so many good fanfics about the beginning of their relationship out there.  
> Anyways.. as the title might indicate, this is set in the summer of 2015 when Gwen and Blake's friendship turned into a bit more than that, and this is my take on it. :)  
> It's probably gonna be a 3 chapter fic (maybe a bit more, i don't really know yet) and nothing's really happening in this first one, but i still think that all of this needs to be said for the rest of the story to make sense. Sooo, if this is too long-winded and boring for you, I apologize ;)

_June_

She hadn't left the house in five days and she feels like it, too. Her head is buzzing painfully from the noises of the LA traffic, her eyes are squinting – hurting in the bright summer sun, her stomach is clenching painfully in anticipation. She's not sure why she's doing this anymore, turning up at another “Voice” taping, pretending like nothing's happened, like her life hadn't fallen apart right in front of her eyes. Her fingers nervously tapping the steering wheel is the only noise in the otherwise deserted parking lot and for a moment she feels almost peaceful. This is her home, after all, had always felt like it. The set had been an escape for her on more than one occasion, her coworkers had been her knights in shining armors (probably more in like tight jeans, “plant” hats and cowboy boots) and the music her medicine. It still is, she figures, but it's different. At the end of the day she won't go 'home' (because home is where your heart is and hers had shattered into a million pieces) to her family, because there's none left and anyways, at this point she doesn't even know if she'll make it through the day. She gets out of the car slowly (everything she does these days is painfully slow), using all the energy she's got left and walks across the empty parking lot, her worn out sneakers making scrunching noises against the pavement every now and then. She's finally ready to talk, she thinks, even though she's not completely sure about what and how, but he'll get it. He'll understand. And he won't judge her, he never does. But especially not after what happened earlier this week.

 

She finally kicked him out.

 

Well, technically she had kicked him out the night after the Grammy's when she found out (even though she's had suspicions for years and his infidelity became more like an open secret in their marriage that she refused to acknowledge and shoved far away into the back of her mind since probably before they decided to elope) about his affair with their nanny. She'd been feeling off all night, the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach, that she'd been trying to shake off for weeks, increasing with every passing minute. Something wasn't right. Hadn't been for weeks. She'd seen the hesitancy in the eyes of her nannies and housekeepers, as if they wanted to tell her something and didn't know if they had the right to. She'd seen them quickly avert their eyes when she caught them staring at her for a little bit too long, noticed how they avoided conversation that went beyond the kids and their well being, watched them leave her house in a hurry as soon as she got home. She might be a naive lover and wife (chose to be so when family and friends told her that Gavin was no good, that she shouldn't marry him and she decided not to listen to them because he _loved_ her and because she _knew_ that he could be a great husband and even greater man if she just showed him how incredible they could be together) but she's not stupid. She'd learned over the years that it serves her better to listen to her gut feeling and not to her heart, but sometimes it's not easy to separate those two and she'd caught herself disregarding her gut on more than one occasion when she _knew_ that it'd be easier to just avoid the truth and the pain that would inevitably come with it.

She'd closed her eyes to that current situation she's finding herself in, all those weeks. She went to rehearsals with Adam and his band, went to church and to her kids' basketball games and eventually to the Grammy's. She made it across the red carpet and through her performance (she knew she looked great and sang well, but once again it felt as if time stood still and she was waiting for the big storm after the calm) and was relieved when it was all over. Gavin hadn't come with her.

The rest of the night is blurry in her mind. A chain of events she'd rather forget. She remembers coming home to a quiet house, her longtime housekeeper greeting her at the door, pushing Kingston's iPad into her hands with a solemn expression on her face and a quietly spoken “I'm really sorry, Gwen”. She remembers typing in the code with shaking fingers, knowing what she was about to see, knowing that everything was about to change, and watched her worst nightmare come to life right before her eyes. There were text messages, hundreds of them, one filthier and more disgusting than the other; and pictures. She remembers barely making it to the bathroom before throwing up, letting out a noise that reminded her of a wounded animal. Gavin had come out of their bedroom then, confused, and she threw herself at him, hitting, screaming, crying. He'd yelled back even louder and when he finally ran out of excuses and insults, he confessed. She'd slapped him across the face then, once, hard, and she'd seen his fist clench and arm fly up and she ducked her head quickly, waiting for the blow to come. It didn't. He'd caught himself, was staring at her with wide eyes filled with rage, anger, pain. She'd told him to go to hell and he'd left. And that was it.

 

He'd been back a week later, with another halfhearted apology that she accepted and a cold kiss to her cheek that had disgusted her more than she disgusted herself for opening her door and heart for him once again. Her two older boys were watching the scene from where they were sitting on the couch with ginger smiles on their innocent faces and glimmers of hope in their beautiful eyes and she remembered why she's doing this all over again. She was done with her husband and his lies, she was done feeling insecure and worthless, she was done giving and giving and giving without ever receiving in return and she was done pretending like this love and this marriage was genuine and all she ever dreamed it would be.

What she wasn't done with were the vows she said and the family she built and fighting through the bad times to cherish the good ones again.

 

The first few weeks after he came back, Gwen had felt nothing but pain. A burning pain that made her head swim, her joints ache and her heart feel so heavy that she couldn't get out of bed in the mornings or go to sleep at nights. Eventually though, it turned into the same numbness she'd been feeling for the past five years or so and she slowly returned to life. They had kids after all – precious little souls that had seen more than they should and deserved stability and all the happiness in the world. Her kids, that's who she's doing this for.

 Most of the time she couldn't stand being in the same room, let alone sharing the same bed with him, so he'd moved into the guestroom down the hallway while she'd spent her dark and lonely nights in 'their' bed, crying her soul out and screaming into her pillow. Gwen didn't eat and slept even less, she only got out of bed to take her kids to school, before hiding in the safety of her office for the rest of the day or keeping herself busy with designing clothes and trying to write songs. She couldn't though, hadn't been able to really write for years and that realization depressed her even more.

He'd agreed to go to therapy with her once a week and she'd cry every time while he was sitting next to her, staring at the clock and occasionally blaming her huge success and high standards for his inability to keep his dick in his pants. They didn't talk if they didn't need to, only spent time together when the kids were around and she caught herself taking said kids to her parents' or brother's house more and more. Gavin wasn't welcomed there anymore. Not after tearing her apart in February and leaving her crying on the floor.

She'd regretted her decision more and more every day and that's a first too, because she always thought that this fight she'd been fighting (for his love, his affection, his approval, their family) all those years must be worth it. But after months of living in this numb, dark world of misery and pain, she wasn't sure what she was fighting for anymore.

* * *

 

When May came around so did their first official meeting for the newest season of The Voice. She'd been looking forward to it for multiple reasons. Because she loved the three guys she'd quickly became friends with during her first season, because she'd see Pharrell again, who'd always been her personal angel and somehow knows exactly what she needs to hear, whenever she asks him for advice; because the set felt like home and had become her safe haven, and because it gave her another excuse to not be at home with Gavin.

 She was scared too. The possibility of her marriage ending had become bigger than her wish to save her family and she'd decided to address it during the meeting. After all, the producers had to know.

At least that's what she used as an excuse to be bold and speak out and admit to someone other than herself and her family that she failed. That they failed. And that everyone was right from the very beginning – her and Gavin wouldn't last. And admitting that was harder than she thought it would be, because suddenly it all became real. Pharrell had given her a knowing look and a tight hug right after, that made it hard for her to not dissolve into tears again. Adam had cursed Gavin for a few minutes, before sending a sad smile her way and had later come over to her chair to tell her that he'd be there for her if she ever needed anything. Blake hadn't reacted at all at first (and she was strangely disappointed by that, because she always thought they'd had some kind of emotional connection. They'd gotten along like a house on fire from the day they met and even though they weren't technically friends and hadn't talked to each other outside of The Voice, she was seeking his comfort, for some reason she couldn't look into at this point in her life), just looked at her intently and there was something in his eyes that reminded her of herself.

At the end of the meeting he'd asked everyone to stay a few more minutes and had calmly explained that he too, was getting a divorce in the near future and that it probably wouldn't be as ugly as Gwen's but that it would affect the show and his reputation and that the next few months would be a living hell for him. He'd left with Adam trailing closely behind before she could say anything and for the first time that day (or ever) she truly saw him. Noticed the slouch of his shoulders and his red rimmed eyes (from alcohol or tears she wasn't sure but she thinks it might be both). He'd looked as tired as she felt, his clothes were wrinkled and disheveled, his hair sticking up in every direction underneath his baseball cap and looking back on the meeting, she realized that he hadn't even cracked one single joke, hadn't laughed at Adam's jabs and really hadn't interacted with anyone at all. The brilliant blue eyes she once got lost in (and it was embarrassing when she noticed and even more embarrassing when he noticed and smirked lazily at her, his eyes briefly drifting to her lips, before landing on her eyes again and she'd felt bad, so bad that she actually jumped out of her chair and went backstage, with his booming laugh still ringing in her ears) looked dull and numb, were clouded with sadness and the same pain she'd seen in her eyes every morning when she looked into the mirror.

 

She'd texted him that night, a simple **“I'm so, so sorry, Blake”** and his reply had come instantly **“So am I”**.She hadn't been sure how to answer and so she didn't, until his next text a few minutes later **“Not about your divorce though. I always thought you deserved better than being married to this son of a bitch”**. She'd almost choked on her wine then because she wanted to cry and throw up and yell at herself at the same time. But even more than that, she'd wanted to ask Blake what the fuck he was thinking, sending her a text as blunt as this one, because Gavin was sitting right next to her on the couch and instead of drowning her sorrow in wine and pushing that nagging thought about leaving him for good to the back of her mind, she'd now be forced to mull his words over and over in her head and have another sleepless night that'd end up with her breaking down from exhaustion.

“ **Can't say I was a fan of Miranda either.”**

 

* * *

By the end of June she'd been back in her favorite red chair and it had been as amazing as it had been horrible. The first day was predictable in it's unpredictability. She knew she'd start crying at some point, and she did. What she didn't expect though was that it happened in the middle of getting her hair done, when Danilo casually asked her “So babydoll, what's new in your life?” and she answered with a whispered “Nothing”. That one simple word had triggered something deep inside of her (because no, nothing was new – she was still feeling the same old pain and she was still listening to the same old lies and she was still trapped in her own life and her own mind) and suddenly the dam had broken and she found herself dissolving into tears right there, in the middle of the usual backstage chaos, with the whole crew and producers looking on and Danilo softly rubbing her shoulder as she tried to compose herself. They hadn't mentioned it again.

She also knew she was gonna have tons of fun, because these coaches had become like an extended family for her. Adam and Blake had always made her laugh and Pharrell had always made her feel good about herself and Carson had always been like a long lost brother to her. What she didn't expect was the flirt fest she initiated (or maybe he did, she couldn't be sure) with Blake.

They'd teased each other and joined forces against the other coaches, she'd thrown shoes at him and notebooks and he'd handed her tissues and had given her a warm hug when the tears wouldn't stop later that afternoon.

 

The second day had been better because they'd been back in their routine and the show had become her safe haven once again, a bubbly dream world with some of her best friends and music and for the moment that had been all she needed to distract herself from the hopelessness that had taken up her whole soul. Pharrell had her back and made sure to let her know just how much he appreciated her various times throughout the day. Adam had fought Blake more than usual and not once stopped the teasing and joking (she was sure he did it for her as much as for Blake and it worked most of the time, distracted her from the painful thoughts that sneaked into her mind once in a while). And Blake had told her about his divorce in one of their breaks, about how much it's gnawing away on his soul, about how dark his future looks to him and about how he thinks he'll never be happy again. And then he'd told her that despite all of that, he felt relieved. Relieved that he got out of a toxic marriage that caused more pain than happiness and that had threatened to destroy him for years.

 

When she got home that night, she'd finally had enough.

 

Not just because she was exhausted of being nice and cordial, when all she wanted to do was kill him or even better, castrate him; but also because she was on her best way to a serious depression and because she hadn't really _felt_ anything but numbness in a long time and because she was sick of sacrificing her own dreams and happiness for him; and because her kids had noticed how angry and bitter Gavin had become and how sad and weak Gwen had become and because they asked more and more questions about the future of their family that she didn't have answers to. But mainly because she'd been pretty sure that all the times Gavin went to band rehearsals or friends, or appointments he was actually fucking new girls (and probably also guys). So she scraped up the last remains of her self respect, confronted him and eventually, when he didn't even try to make up lame excuses, she threw him out for good, while she and her babies stayed. And that was that.

She'd called her lawyer right away and then her parents, while hysterically crying, because suddenly it all became too real. And she'd been _this close_ to calling Gavin and asking him to come back, asking him to make another promise he wouldn't keep and asking him to love her again. But she didn't. Because even though she was broken and felt like her life had ended, and even though she wanted nothing more than to have her family back, she'd felt like she owed it to herself to finally take a stand and escape something that would only destroy her in the end.

She'd cried for hours that night. She'd cried and cried and cried and when there were no more tears left to shed, she'd started throwing up. She must've fallen asleep on the cold tile of her bathroom floor because the next thing she knows is that it's 5am and Jen and Todd are hovering over her (they must've gotten her voice mail and she wonders how pathetic they think she is, crying over the same man for the millionth time this year), sad smiles on their faces, worry in their eyes. She'd hugged them briefly, showered quickly and then dealt with her kids. She doesn't know if she picked the right words to tell them or if she should've tried to hide her emotions from them, but it doesn't matter she thinks, because their life will never be the same again and because she's pretty sure that there's no right way to tell your kids that you destroyed their family.

 The rest of the week she'd felt like dying and in hindsight she's not sure how she made it through the days and the tears (hers and her kids', but especially theirs cause they're precious little souls who shouldn't have to face such a tragedy that early in their lives) and the utter sadness and hopelessness that ate her up from the inside. She hadn't answered her phone, hadn't left the house and only opened the door for her parents. She'd been a heartbroken mess and she'd been sure that there's no one on this planet who could understand her pain, the betrayal and embarrassment, the _suffering_.

 

* * *

 

She'd finally left Gavin.

And now here she is, hesitantly knocking on _his_ trailer door at 6 in the morning, knowing that he'd be the only one who'd be here at this hour, knowing that he'd be the only one who'd be willing to listen and who'd understand.

 

“Blake.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright people, here's Chapter 2! :)  
> I think this whole story line might end up being longer than I intended it to, but I probably won't be as fast with the updates, cause I'm kinda busy these days.  
> Have fun reading! ♥

“Blake...”

He's not surprised to see Gwen when he opens the door to his trailer, expected her visit actually. And there's no one else who'd be on set this early in the morning other than her, anyways. Adam has a wonderful wife at home and so do Pharrell and Carson and Gwen has.. well, darkness and heartache, just like him. What he's surprised about though, is the state she's in when he finally sets eyes on her. He can't say that he knows Gwen very well, they've been casual friends slash colleagues during season 7 and hadn't really talked to each other again until the production meeting a month ago, but if there's one thing he knows for sure, it's that Gwen Stefani is never not styled perfectly and dressed to the nines. At least that's what he thought.

There's no makeup on her face this time (none that his untrained eye can see) and her hair is a tangled mess, flowing around her shoulders. The shirt she's wearing has her face on it and is at least two sizes too big (for the first time he realizes how thin she's gotten. Sure, she'd always been skinny and fit but he's pretty sure she lost a couple of pounds since he last saw her and that's just not ok for a woman as tiny as her) and the ripped jeans she's wearing is sitting low on her hips, exposing a strip of creamy skin. She's as beautiful as always but the tear streaks on her cheeks and the helpless, almost desperate expression on her face are making his heart clench in recognition. He's been there, too. Hell, he still is there.

Opening his arms for her comes almost unconsciously to him. It's like a reflex, he thinks, just like the need to comfort her as soon as he sees the tears flowing freely and the trembling hand she had lifted in an awkward almost wave. She sinks into his embrace just as quickly and he wonders when they crossed the line from co-workers to friends? (he's not sure if they can qualify as friends yet or if they just happen to share the same kind of pain at the same time). He thinks he knows why she's here, hopes she's finally ready to share some of her burdens with him. He'd talked to her about his divorce briefly a couple weeks ago when they started taping, because why not, they were in the same boat after all. _She hadn't_ though, chose to pretended like she didn't see his concerned glances and worried questions instead, and he'd let her be. God knows, it took him a month to finally open up to Adam and even then it had mostly been a confusing chain of drunken curses strung together.

 

He'd seen glimpses of the disaster her marriage had been over the last year, he just never thought about it too much. He didn't know her very well back then and quite frankly, he cared about his own marital problems more than about hers.

He'd overheard an argument between her and Gavin once, back when her husband had helped her out as an adviser in season 7 and he'd almost wanted to rub it in later (because he and Adam had _told_ her that it's never a good idea to get your spouse to help out with your team) until he heard her heart-wrenching sobs and his cruel words.

He'd seen her get teary-eyed over text messages or phone calls and it usually resulted in her going backstage, probably to cry. Sometimes Pharrell would go after her, but most of the time, no one would.

Finally he'd seen her at the Grammys. She'd looked like a fantasy come true in her red dress and beautiful makeup and she was the queen of the world when she stepped on stage with Adam. She'd walked the red carpet alone, though, left right after her performance and could barely muster a smile when she walked past him on her way out.

She'd always been a ridiculously private person for the fact that she wears her emotions on her sleeve 24/7 and has basically been sharing her most personal fears and troubles with millions of people all over the world since her very first album. It's contradictory and really, she's a paradox in itself. But she's fascinating. And he's been fascinated by Gwen Stefani from the moment they met.

* * *

 

When he pulls her into his trailer that morning, she finally looses it. It must be freeing for her and in a sense it's freeing for him as well- knowing that he's not the only one with a fucked up life, knowing that someone has it worse. He feels bad for thinking this way immediately but lately he's just been trying to survive and if that's what it takes, then to hell with his guilty conscience.

He walks them to the small leather couch in the back of his trailer and as soon he sits down, she curls into him – head buried in his neck, hand tightening around the material of his shirt. It's odd, being this close to her without having any restrictions, without a wedding band in the way, and he's sure that in a different life he wouldn't have wasted a chance with this girl. But they're both fucked up right now, and so are their lives and seeing her fall apart in his arms like this, her body shaking with sobs and her tears leaving a wet patch on his neck, is the worst thing he's seen since he walked in on Miranda and her lover.

He shares Gwen's pain and he hurts for her. And he's pretty sure that she hurts for him as well.

 

“I'm sorry” are the first words she speaks in a hushed whisper, the sobs having left her voice rough and raspy. He doesn't know what to tell her. He could say that there's no reason to be sorry cause he gets it, he could tell her that everything will be alright but he knows that it won't, he could tell her that she's save with him, but it seems too intimate of a thing to say, so for once in his life he keeps his mouth shut. Instead he squeezes her shoulder reassuringly and hopes that this little gesture can give her more comfort than his words. He hears another small sniffle and feels her cold hand clench his shirt in her fist before she mumbles again, insecurity so prominent in her voice that he's hurting for her even more. “I just felt lonely, y'know? Haven't talked to anyone yet cause no one really gets it 'n I dunno. I figured you'd understand.” He gives a short nod against her head and lets his thumb stroke her upper arm in a soothing motion, before coughing lightly “I do, darlin'”

And he does, he fully understands. Loneliness had become the only feeling he couldn't shake off. He'd gotten over his anger quite quickly, than the feeling of loss followed and it took him longer to deal with that than he thought (sometimes when he's laying in bed at night he still feels like he's mourning the death of a loved one and cries himself to sleep) and yes, the betrayal and broken trust still hurts, but he knows that blaming himself won't make it better and that eventually this feeling will pass as well. The loneliness had stayed with him through it all, though. It had stayed with him through the early years of his youth when he had to learn how to live without his big brother, it had stayed with him throughout his first divorce and his beloved career that cost him more friendships than it gained him and it stayed with him through his marriage to Miranda. It's almost like an old friend that comes and goes as it wishes and sometimes stays for a while and when he looks back at the past year of his life, he really can't remember it ever leaving.

* * *

January he'd spent at his ranch, alone. The biggest part of February too, because Miranda had been on tour and they hadn't been getting along that well anyways and thought that maybe some more distance would magically solve their problems. It had been peaceful and calming and he had lots and lots of time to think. About himself and Ran and about their future and he came to the conclusion that yes, they fought a lot and disagreed even more (she wanted him to quit The Voice and move to Nashville full time and he wanted her to stop touring so damn much and talk about babies) but she was still his wife and he was in it for the good times and the bad times and he still loved her more than anything. He was sure of that. Most of the time anyways. So he decided that this was worth it, that they were worth it and he also decided to ignore the rumors that had been going around in Nashville for quite some time now. They'd make it through this crisis and they'd come out stronger than before and in a few years from now they'd laugh about it in front of the fireplace, cuddling with their little baby girl. When Ran had come back in March and they started living together permanently again, he'd been happier than he'd been in a long time. She was more affectionate and complimented him a lot, she didn't pick fights and didn't get annoyed by his constant happiness and his dumb jokes. And again he decided to ignore the fact that she seemed quieter than usual and that her eyes were filled with regret. He ignored the sharp glances she threw at his bus driver and other employees, too.

When April came around, his life blew up right in front of his face. Literally. Miranda had been sitting in her tour manager's lap when he walked into her bus. Naked from the waist down. He froze and she yelped and her manager stuttered before hastily closing his fly. He'd turned around without another word and never looked back. That night he got wasted at Trace's place and when he got back home to his ranch the next day, he'd found a note saying “I'm gonna be in the Nashville house, if you wanna talk”. He didn't. The rest of the month had been rough. There was rain and storms and he drank a lot and cried even more and when he couldn't stand his mom's pitying eyes and his sister's comforting words anymore, he left for LA.. Adam had picked him up from the airport and Behati had tended to him, when he completely broke down on their couch that same night. By the end of the month he'd been sure of two things: 1. He'd cried so much that he felt like his soul had lost all it's light and that he'd never be able to feel anything but numbness again. 2., he needs to get a divorce, and quick.

Their first Voice meeting of the season had been in May and he'd known that it was time to get his life back together. He'd stopped eating and never stopped drinking and he'd been feeling the effects of that on his body - the constant wariness, his dizzy head and aching bones, his hurting heart, the sadness suffusing his whole body. But he'd felt like he was stuck in that dark hole that Miranda had dropped him in and he couldn't bring himself to give a shit about what would be best for him and his health and he also didn't give a shit about Adam's judging glances either. So he'd kept drinking and had continued ignoring Miranda's calls and the fact that after this summer his life would never be the same again.

Still, he'd been happy to return to set. It had always felt like a dream world for him. He never felt worthless when he stepped foot in the building, his career was respected and so was his opinion, and every time his contestants delivered amazing performances he'd felt like his life had a purpose, like his existence on earth actually meant something. He'd been looking forward to seeing Pharrell and Gwen again, because both of them had special souls and a positivity and kindness about them, that he hadn't encountered a lot in his life. Definitely not in his marriage. When he'd walked into the meeting that morning, he'd sensed that something was wrong. The mood had been weird, somber almost. Gwen hadn't been smiling her signature beaming smile or talked a mile a minute (both rare occurrences) and Pharrell had been watching her, as well as him, with a knowing look in his eyes. But maybe he just imagined that, maybe it'd been his shitty mood and hopelessness or maybe he just forgot what happiness looked like on other people.

When Gwen had told them about a possible divorce this coming summer, he'd admired her bravery. When she'd meekly added that Gavin's had an affair and that it was probably gonna be all over the news in no time, he'd felt for her. When she'd still been holding her head up high and hadn't wavered once under the scrutinizing and judging eyes of everyone else, he'd decided that he can do that too. Decided that if she can deal with her life even though she'd had much more pieces to pick up from the floor than him, he could too. That night he'd packed his stuff and moved to his new rental. He'd thrown out the complimentary bottle of Whiskey they'd left for him on the counter and cooked his first meal in months. He'd send two texts that night. The first one to Gwen, telling her that she deserves better than everything Gavin ever was. (He really thinks she does, because she's warm and kind and has the biggest heart and most innocent soul, and because she deserves nothing but the best in return). The second one he sends is to Miranda. It's short but the meaning behind it had been clear: “I'm done.”. He'd thought he should have more to say to her after 10 years together, thought they should probably talk about it like the adults they are, but then again what is there to say when one walks in on his wife fucking another guy.

* * *

He can feel her snuggle even further into his chest after a few minutes of silence and her touch and flowery scent are so familiar that he wonders, just for a split second, how he's lived without it for so many years.

“It's over.”

“For good?”

“For good.” Her voice doesn't waver and she sounds resolute. He can't help but admire her strength once again.

When he moves slightly to adjust his position on the uncomfortable couch, she leans in closer, curls up in a ball next to him and he holds her a little tighter. He senses that she needs his comfort; thinks that maybe he needs hers as well.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” He tilts his head slightly, trying to gauge her reaction. He doesn't want to pry, doesn't want to scare her away. But he can't help but wonder what the last straw had been, what the bastard did to send her over the edge.

She snorts, a deeply ironic almost -laugh and then closes her eyes, trying to hold back the tears.

“He broke me.”

It's his time to smile and she must've felt it against her hair, because she turns slightly, searching his eyes, confusion clouding her chocolate brown orbs.

“Nah, he didn't. He broke your trust, yeah. 'n he broke your marriage; but you Gwen, yer still here. Yer still getting outta bed in the mornin' n yer still takin' care of yer boys 'n yer still showin' up for the show. He didn't break ya. 'n it might take a while for ya to realize, but under all of that pain – yer still the same. Yer strong 'n he can't take that from you.”

She leans back a little, not quite leaving his embrace, but far enough so her hair's not tickling his nose and her legs aren't pressed up against his thighs anymore. Her eyes are boring into his, watching him with so much intensity that he's tempted, oh so tempted, to look away. He holds her gaze though and after another minute she breaks it and leans back into the couch again (their arms are only slightly touching now and he's missing her warmth already), sighing deeply.  
“You're awfully positive.”

“I almost shot myself with my hunting rifle the last time I thought 'bout the negative stuff, so I figured I'd try a new tactic for a while”

He knows that his smile doesn't reach his eyes and when he nudges her slightly, he's pretty sure that she can see the unexpected tears that are welling up in his eyes.

She musters him for a moment and then opens her mouth, rethinks what she was about to say and closes it again. _Finally:_

“He fucked a dozen of girls and guys. He fucked the nanny for three years.” This time her voice breaks and he pulls her into his chest again, a futile attempt to hold her together while her heart is shattering into a million pieces. He was right earlier – she put up the well functioning facade of a happy family for years, fell apart behind closed doors and never let anyone see how desperately unhappy she really was. He doesn't know crap about Gwen Stefani. Maybe no one really does.

“Maybe you're right. Maybe he didn't break me. I still feel like I wanna die, though.”

He looks down at her puffy face and red-rimmed eyes then and presses a tender kiss into her hair.

“I know, sweetheart. I do, too.”

 

* * *

 

They stay like this for another hour. Gwen cries into his shirt some more and when she's not looking he sheds a few tears as well; she gives him a short summary of the last months of her life and again he can't help but admire her strength and her infinite will to fight for her family. He tells her about how he walked in on Miranda and her tour manager and actually laughs (a real laugh) at the scandalized and utterly shocked expression on Gwen's face and when it's time to get ready for the show, he walks her to her trailer – warm hand resting on her lower back- reassuring, protective almost. He shoots one last brief look in her direction to check if she'd be alright and when she gives him a shy wave and nods with a grateful smile on her full lips, he knows that she'll be ok. That _they_ will be ok.

They've got each other now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go :D  
> Leave comments to tell me how you liked it and if you have any ideas or wishes for future stories, just let me know.  
> :) ♥


	3. Need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go, people! ♥

_Beginning of July_

 

It had happened on the last day of the Blind's, about a week after she broke down in his trailer. They'd become closer, somewhat, and she guesses if you can cry on someone's shoulder you might as well call him a friend, too. They'd occasionally talked at each other's chairs during breaks, they ate lunch together in his trailer (after he'd invited her for the third time she finally realized that he wanted to make sure she actually ate instead of living off of tea and gum) and sometimes, when they weren't taping for the show he'd send her texts throughout the day- checking on her, seeing if she needed anything. It was a comfortable routine they'd slipped into relatively quickly – her leaning on him, seeking his comfort more often than not, opening up to him bit by bit. She hadn't felt comfortable enough to share _everything_ yet, just a sketchy summary of the past year or so. She didn't think it'd go over well to force the whole truth on him, the catastrophe her whole marriage had been, thought that maybe with time they'd both be able to dig a little deeper, talk a little more. Besides, she was embarrassed enough to admit her failure to herself, surely didn't need other people to know.

He'd shared even less than her- the only thing being how he walked in on Miranda fucking some other guy (she'd gasped at that, can't even imagine how traumatizing that must've been for Blake) and closed off after that. It's disconcerting, really, the fact that she's trusting someone with something so intimate, while he can't do the same.

It comes as a surprise for her, therefore, when she receives his text message just as she's in the middle of gathering her stuff and calling it a night. She hadn't particularly been in a rush since the kids are with their dad and the only thing she's coming home to is emptiness, so the set is mostly deserted when she makes her way to Blake's trailer.

“ **Need ya.”** is all his text had said but that was more than enough.

* * *

She spots him sitting on his too small leather couch, head buried in his hands. His body is shaking with sobs (not the quiet kind, but the heart-wrenching, soul-consuming kind that has you choking on your own tears) and tears are running down his red splotched face.

“Blake..” He doesn't notice her, doesn't seem to notice anything around him so she quietly closes the trailer door behind her, before moving to sit next to him.

There are empty beer bottles on the table (lots of them) and she can smell the vodka on his breath.

When her hand makes contact with his shoulder he flinches, whipping his head around, and she wants to start crying as soon as she looks into his eyes. They're unguarded (for the first time) and the raw pain she sees, the raw pain that's surrounds his whole figure is more than she can bear.

“Blake” nothing more than a whisper. It' a question, a plea. For what she doesn't know.

His face scrunches up again, a pitiful grimace of the kind, joyful expression he used to wear before his life fell apart, and the noise that escapes him next, cuts her deep. Her heart contracts painfully in something like recognition - she knows this feeling, recognizes the emotions on his face, the grief in his piercing blue eyes.

He's back to crying then and there's not much she can do but hold him.

The moment her arms go around him, he topples over and it's an odd sight to see, a 6'5 man hunched over, looking like a small kid again. It's endearing as well, though, and the mother in her wants nothing more than to take his pain away. So they stay like that for a while, his face buried somewhere between her shoulder and neck, her arms awkwardly trying to reach around him, trying to put him back together, trying to make him feel her love, her support. She'd felt safe with him when she broke down in his arms last week and she desperately wants him to feel the same. Wants to make it up to him, in some way.

 

 

“Fuck, Gwen! Ya shoul' go home!” His voice comes out of nowhere and she startles for a second before slightly pulling away. He's drunk, incredibly drunk, that's for sure.

“What's going on, Blake?” He sniffles a few times in reply and frees himself of her embrace. He smells of days old alcohol, his face is unattractively swollen and red and his eyes are darting around the room, trying to focus on something, anything. When he starts swaying while he's sitting, she knows it's bad. He's completely wasted.

“Nuttin'. Just a bad day. Dun wanna talk 'bout it.” He averts his eyes again and she has to push him to lie down when tries standing up and almost trips over his own feet.

“We don't have to talk then. I'll just sit 'ere with you, if that's what you need.” Her voice is nothing but a whisper and she wonders if he heard her at all.

He listens to her, though, lays back on the couch and lets her tend to him. She's a good mother, mostly, and if there's one thing she's good at, it's taking care of people.

She makes him drink a too strong coffee and take some advil, she sends him to the bathroom to wash his face (and that's harder than she thought, because he's drunk, soo drunk and because he can barely make it a few inches without tripping over himself) and then sits on the couch with him, stroking a luke warm washcloth across his face, murmuring to him. It's calming, in a sense, not just for him but for her as well, because for the first time in weeks she's not focused on her own pain anymore. Shares his, instead.

When she's sure he's asleep, she cleans up the table and the kitchen area and then decides to get rid of his alcohol once and for all. He'll probably hate her for that in the morning, but she can't really bring herself to care.

It's when she accidentally breaks a vodka bottle while pouring it into the sink, that she hears his voice again.

“What the hell, Gwen?Why the fuck would ya do 'is” He's not yelling at her (yet) but she knows he'd probably be beating her up by now, if she was anyone but... well, her. She can tell that he's hella pissed, but she's not having any of it - he'd asked her for help, so she'll help him.

“Oh well, lets see. Maybe so you can't drink yourself into a coma?”

She can see him flinch at that and then he starts rubbing his eyes, undoubtedly trying to fight the huge upcoming headache.

She's not mad at him, it's more like resentment, she thinks. Drinking had been his answer to everything lately, and she gets it, really. She resents it at the same time, though, because he's a good man, a great man, and he turns into a shell of himself every time he touches a bottle of vodka. And maybe, she reasons, maybe she's equally pissed about the fact that she has three kids to take care of; that she can't just look for answers at the bottom of a bottle.

“I'm sorry.” She's not and if he wasn't that drunk, he'd know that but he is, so he just mutters a resigned “'s fine I guess” before closing his eyes again.. He must be exhausted. Life is exhausting these days.

After a few moments of looking at him and his battered body, she can't take it anymore, can't take his silent suffering and painful whimpers, and sits back down, slowly stroking the washcloth across his forehead, rubbing soft circles on his upper arm with her other hand. She wants him to be ok.

* * *

His hand on her wrist stops her eventually. His grip gentle but tight.

“Why're ya so good to me, Gwen?' Choked up voice, unfocused eyes. She doesn't know if it's from alcohol or embarrassment.

“You asked me to come, I did.”

“Ya didn't have to.” He's wrong. She did have to, didn't feel like she had an option. She doesn't say that, though.

“You deserve everything that's good, Blake.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh and tightens his grip on her. The smell of vodka surrounds them and she can see how concentrated he's trying to meet her eyes.

“Fuck, why aren't ya mine, Gwen. I'd treat ya so good.”

Suddenly his touch feels like a burn and she pulls away, hurriedly coming to a stand next to the couch.

He won't remember any of this in the morning, she's sure of that. He _means_ every single word of it, she's sure of that too.

“You're drunk.”

“I'm not a liar.” Fuck.

“Don't do this Blake. Please.” It's not that she hasn't _thought_ about it before. He's a good man, Blake is. His soul is kind and warm and she's never felt more peaceful and safe with anyone before. She can admit that it's been a tempting thought lately, comparing Blake to Gavin and wondering what it would've felt like if she'd been married to someone more like Blake. _Like_ him, not him though. This friendship they've been forming lately is essential for her healing process (the survival mode she's been in since February had made her selfish) and it's fragile too. As fragile as she is and that's another reason why she can't even think about what he said. She's emotionally fucked up these days (she probably can't even blame Gavin for all of it, thinks that maybe some of it is just her) and moving on with her life, especially with Blake, seems like way more than her mind can comprehend at this point.

“Sorry Gwen, I jus'..” He closes his eyes and she's grateful for it. Grateful she won't see the rejection in them and the pain and that's selfish of her too, she knows that.

“I shouldna said that. Yer.. fuck.. yer jus' so good to me 'n yer amazin' n I don't deserve any of it. God, sorry. I'm such a fuckin' idiot.”

His words are a slurred mess and she knows his hangover will kill him tomorrow.

“You should take some more advil and drink water. It'll help you.” She's still standing next to him, wringing the wash cloth in her hands, trying to keep busy, trying to keep from running. It's a peace offering of sorts. It's all she's got at the moment.

He reaches his hand out for her blindly, and when he finally opens his eyes again she can see unshed tears clouding the normal crystal blue. He's on the verge of another breakdown. She can tell, cause she sees the same expression on her face every night she looks into her bedroom mirror.

“Forgive me, Gwen. Please. I can't ruin the only good thing in my life.”

She's not mad, just hella confused.

The couch dips where she sits down next to his large frame and he shoots her a more than grateful look when she starts stroking his sweaty forehead again. It's still slightly awkward between them, but that's ok, she thinks. They're both just trying to make it through the day.

She smiles at him lovingly (because how could she not? He's a loveable man and he's adorable like this and she's so sad that he has to go through so much pain) and traces the lines of his face with a gentle finger.

“Sleep now, Blake. I'll be here when you wake up in the morning.”

* * *

It's early in the morning when she startles, not quite sure what's waking her at this hour. She blinks a few times and rubs her eyes, trying to adjust to the light.

“Mornin' sunshine.” - Blake is leaning on the counter, sipping on a cup of coffee. His eyes are still red and glassy but he'd clearly changed and his dark curls are wet from a shower. He's beautiful in the morning sun.

 

“Got a cup for ya, too.” He's hesitant, she can tell, and so is she. Things are always awkward the morning after.

Her smile is gentle (it's ok) and she moves to get up. Something's different.

“Oh uhm, sorry, I guess.” He's stuttering now. “Ya looked uncomfortable when I woke up so I took of yer shoes 'n got ya a blanket. Didn' want ya to be cold and all.”

He's embarrassed as hell, turning red from his shoulders upwards and the way he's rubbing his neck all nervous and shy, is almost cute.

He avoids looking at her until she takes the second cup from his outstretched hand, taking in the smell of freshly brewed coffee (and maybe his aftershave too) and smiles at him gratefully (thank you).

They stand there for a while, a comfortable silence engulfing them until it gets too much for her. She _has_ to know.

“So last night.. do you, like uhm, remember what happened.” She's proud of herself for looking into his eyes while asking.

“Gwen, I'm sorry. I was drunk as hell 'n I shouldn't even have texted ya to come help me. It was selfish, ya probably had yer own stuff goin' on.” She doesn't correct him, nor does she reassure him.

“And I'm sorry for what I said too. Aah, hell, I dunno how to keep my big mouth shut when I'm drinkin'” She knows, he's sorry. She knows he's embarrassed, too. She admires that he has the guts to apologize.

“I know. Did you mean it though?” Her voice is small and a little breathless and surprise is evident in his eyes. He doesn't hesitate this time.

“Yes.”

The force of his brazen truth is knocking the wind out of her and she takes a step back, unconsciously.

“Look, Gwen..”

  
“You could've lied.” _Why didn't he?_

“I don't lie to ya. People 've done that enough.”

It's too intense. This whole thing is. So she leaves, she always does. And she ignores the pain in his eyes, too.

* * *

He leaves a ridiculous amount of voice and text messages on her phone while she's crying in her bed and later that day, when she wakes up more exhausted than she fell asleep, she goes through all of them. It's a whole lot of “I'm sorry”, “Please forgive me” and “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

She knows he's desperate, she's sure she hurt him too. But she's not going to apologize. She's broken and insecure and he _knows_ that he shouldn't say stuff like that to her. That it's too much, too soon.

 

**I'm not mad. Just overwhelmed.**

 

It's her way of saying “I don't want to loose you either” and he seems to understand, because her phone rings barely a minute later.

The silence is deafening at first and she knows he's being careful, knows that it's her turn.

“I'm not mad Blake, or angry. You can actually speak to me.” She tries to keep her tone as light as she wants to feel.

“I'm really sorry, Gwen. Believe me. This is fucking bullshit 'n I didn't mean to screw it up.”  


A deep breath, then:

“I need ya to forgive me, darlin'. I can't.. I need ya in my life. As a friend. Yer too important to me, 'n I'm an idiot.”  
  
“Yeah, you are.” She can't help but smile to herself.

“I'm not pissed, Blake. You were drunk and you were honest and you said things you shouldn't have said. It's ok. We've all been there.”

She can hear his sigh on the other end and wonders if he gets it. If he gets that it really _is_ ok.

“Besides, I threw out all your booze, so that's enough karma for you.” The playfulness in her voice is honest this time and when she hears his relieved laugh, booming and loud through her phone, she chuckles, too.

“I'm gonna make it up to you. Come over for dinner if you're free tonight. I'll make veggie burgers for ya or somethin'. Maybe I'll eat them, too, just to torture myself some more.”

She laughs out loud then and it probably sounds unattractive as hell, but she doesn't mind that much. And within a minute they're back to making jokes and talking about god and the world and she knows it's ok.

 

They'll be ok.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it, guys. Let me know in the comments ☺ I'll try to update as soon as possible.


	4. Inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was meant to be two chapters, but it made more sense to me to put it into one, so here ya go :)  
> I hope you like it ♥

_End of July_

 

“Hey! What happened to sharing the popcorn?”

“No.”

“Gweeeeen..”

  
“Fuck off, Blake!” Her laugh is loud and real and she slaps his hand away when he tries to reach for the bowl of popcorn that somehow migrated into her lap in the span of the evening.

“You're the one who keeps telling me that I'm too thin! Let me eat in peace.” He smirks at her and she smirks back and when she finally offers him a piece, he crosses his arms with a pout and shakes his head no.

“Ohmygod, you're such a child!”

“You know you love it, girl.” She laughs again and then turns to pay attention to the movie, a small smile still prominent on her face.

It's good, he thinks, that thing they've got going on. They make each other laugh on the good days (it seems like today is a good day, because they haven't talked about their exes or divorces at all and because the only tears Gwen had shed were tears of joy, so far), they lean on each other on the bad days, and they share their pain through it all. It's healthy, healthier than what he did before and she's good company, great company actually. He wonders, sometimes, if there's always been that _connection_ between them, if they would have ended up becoming close friends if it wasn't for their shared tragedy and loneliness. He can't exactly say that she's making him happy yet, nothing really does these days, but he can admit that he _does_ feels happier when she's around and he thinks that maybe, he could be the one to make _her_ happy again (?). It's confusing. Mainly because he doesn't usually _do_ feelings and because he's not good at dealing with his problems, Gwen makes him do exactly that, though, and most days he's grateful for it. He's grateful for a lot she does and one day, when he's done being a coward, he might actually tell her that.

There've been a lot of dark days this past month and he knows with the upcoming announcements of their respective divorces, there'll be much more to come; still he can't help but think that they've overcome the worst. She laughs a lot more now, sometimes she even makes it through a whole day without crying or wishing to go back to how it was and he'd stopped drinking and drowning in self-pity.

They still have a long way to go, he knows that, but seeing that brilliant smile on her face and watching her joke (flirt?) with him all night, makes him even more appreciative of the time they've spent crying on each other's shoulders.

He had no idea, three weeks could be this long. He hated LA and he hated the long days of taping. He hated the dozen phone calls with his lawyers and looking for a new house. He hated himself still.

Gwen had been there though, and who would've thought that she would be the one to make it better, to make this situation a little less unbearable.

People had always told him how amazing she is, how positive and appreciative of life, how brave she is. But now he _sees_ it. Sees how she fights for happiness every day, how kind and plain nice she is to everyone she meets, how she tries to stay positive even when shit hits the fan. One day he wants to be more like her.

After she'd forgiven him his drunken stupor, they'd become closer. _Much closer_. They've manifested some kind of comfortable routine- dinner and long nights of crying at his house (when she didn't have the kids), occasional breakfasts and Sundays spent talking about life at hers. They'd hang out in each other's trailers on set, too.

Comfort and understanding is what they'd been looking for in each other, he thinks. Two people, two broken hearts, two separate life stories that somehow had the same ending. She became his ally, his closest friend, the person he could fall apart with. He'd never expected that to happen. What he also didn't expect to happen was the crush he developed for her. He'd always known she was a beautiful woman and sexy as hell and her personality made her even more amazing. That thing they've started recently though, well, that's something else entirely. He sure as hell hadn't seen that coming.

And yet here they are, sitting on her couch (close, too close and he wants to reach out his hand to touch the soft skin of her arm or trace the lines on her delicate face), watching a random movie like they usually do, talking, laughing, playing with fire, pushing their boundaries.

 

“I'm leaving for Montana tomorrow” When she doesn't continue and sighs instead, he turns to face her. “I know.”

She nods her head in agreement. She knows that he knows, so he figures that this is her way of throwing him out for the night. It's almost midnight after all. He's not quite ready to go yet though, so he steals some more popcorn out of the bucket on her lap and settles further back into the couch.

“You excited to go 'n have some alone time?” What he really wants to ask is if she'll miss him and their little get-togethers but it feels forbidden to even think it and saying it out loud would undoubtedly cross the line they'd carefully drawn over the past four weeks. She turns her head away from the screen in front of her and watches him for a moment, with guarded eyes and a frown on her face.

“I was..” Her two carefully picked words seem calculated and the heavy meaning behind them (she _was_ happy to get away from everything, before _they_ became closer and started that thing between them) doesn't escape him. There's a lot to say these days but more often than not, words don't seem to be enough. Or maybe they're just not brave enough to say them out loud. Yet.

When their eye contact becomes too intense, he reaches for the bucket in her lap and flicks a piece of popcorn her way. She smiles at him in response, shaking her head good-naturedly and he grins back at her with his signature boyish smile full of dimples and sparkling eyes. It's refreshing, the way she just takes his humor and occasionally childish behavior for what it is, without chastising him or raising her perfectly shaped eyebrows in disapproval. A lot of things are refreshing about Gwen and their friendship, actually.

“Still dunno why yer goin' up to Montana. I've got a perfectly good ranch in Tish. With horses 'n everythin'.” He winks at her and she nudges his arm with hers and then she bites her lip, lightly. (It's another one of her tells, he'd discovered, and it's slightly unnerving how nervous she's acting around him today.)

“One day I'll take you up on that offer, cowboy.”

“God, I hope so.” His voice had gotten low and gravely (unintentionally) and his eyes are fixated on hers and for a moment he fears he might have overstepped, because she looks away immediately and gets up from the couch, taking her warmth and flowery scent with her.

It's time for him to go.

At the door she hugs him briefly and he takes the chance to breathe her in before she pulls away just as quick. “It'll be good for me to get away from everything for a while, y'know?” What she really means is that it'll be good for her to get away from him, but she doesn't say it, so he won't point it out. It hurts his ego a bit, but he _knows_ she's right. Their connection is off the charts, they've become unexplainably close and they're playing with fire. At least he is.

She's tempting, even more so now that his wedding ring is gone and hers is too and it doesn't escape him that she seems happier when they're spending time together- her smile grows bigger whenever she catches him staring at her; her eyes sparkle at each compliment he gives her; she feels comfortable enough to touch him more often now.

Distance is good.

“Yeah, you're right.”

When he reaches his car, her sweet voice is calling out his name once again and she graces him with the biggest smile as soon as he turns to look at her.

“I'm still gonna miss you, though.”

Another lip bite, another shy giggle and wave goodbye.

Leaving her shouldn't be _this_ hard.

 

* * *

This is torture. It isn't supposed to be like this. Oklahoma used to be fun – it's his home and safe haven, his family is there and lots of his friends, he can hunt there and fish and just enjoy the quiet and peace that comes with living on a ranch far from paparazzi and air pollution, far from ex wives and problems that seem to just pile up endlessly these days.

 

It's day one and everything should be the same, _is_ the same. And yet it's different.

He hadn't been here in months. Partly because he had to film The Voice, partly because Miranda took forever to get her shit and her dogs out of the house, partly because he couldn't stand the pity of his family and friends anymore. He was looking forward to coming back, actually, and last night hadn't been all too bad. He got here around 11 and fell into bed almost immediately, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. This morning he had his usual cup of coffee on the front porch, enjoying the spectacular view of the lake and the vast, crystal blue Oklahoma sky and then he went fishing. It was _supposed_ to be fun. It's torture though.

Who would've thought that silence and relaxation would inevitably lead to thoughts about _her._

It wasn't meant to be like this. She was meant to be his distraction (and yeah, that's selfish but he knows he's the same to her), one he cares deeply about, but just a distraction- someone to help him through his dark days, someone who's there for him, who fights the same fight as him, who he can rely on and trust. Someone to take his mind off of painful memories and bring joy back into his life instead.

 

But somewhere along the road he messed up and now she's the only thing that's on his mind. Gwen.

Her silky blonde hair, her porcelain skin, her long long legs and that beautiful crystalline laugh that lights up his whole word.

“Fuck!” It's a harsh contrast, this word, against the cheerful chirping of the birds, the rustling of the wind and the image of the gorgeous woman in his head.

He'd promised himself not to text her this week. For his own sake, but mainly for hers. She needs time to collect herself, to try and fix her life and to be there for her kids. But still:  
  
**How's Montana treatin' you?**  
  
It's easy conversation, nothing deep. No “I miss you” or “what the fuck is wrong with me”. He doesn't particularly want to scare her away again.

**Omg! It's amazing, Blake! I might just stay here and become a cowgirl lol ;)**

Gosh, her good mood is infectious even through her texts.

**Send me a picture, I need proof.**

Teasing is allowed, right?

He waits a few minutes until he's almost sure he took it too far again, when her text message comes through. And sure as hell there is Gwen, with a flannel shirt and tight jeans, with black cowboy boots and red pouty lips, making a kissing face for the camera. Something stirs inside him and if he didn't know better he'd be sure this feeling is longing, desire even. This is bad. 

**Holy fuck. Well, that certainly beats the view I have.**

He adds a simple picture of the lake and waits for her reply.

**LOL! You sure know how to flatter a cowgirl ;) gx**

**Ur ranch looks beautiful, tho! U need to invite me over some time.**

He doesn't know if she's flirting or being nice but he's willing to take the risk.

**You can come over any time. Not sure if I'll let you leave again, though.**

Her answer is immediate.

 

**Not sure, if I'd want to leave again. Gx**

He stops himself from replying.

* * *

The next day is similar- he has his coffee on the front porch, he gets lost in his thoughts about Miranda and Gwen while fishing and then later he hangs out at his mom's house. It's uncomfortable at first. He knows his family had been worried about him, especially his mom and sister and he feels bad for not talking to them, for not coming to visit them in months. They talk about this and that for a while, about the show and upcoming concerts, about his mom's vacation and his sister's kids and manage to dance around the elephant in the room for quiet some time. It's when he looks at her, really looks at her that she knows it's ok to ask, to bring up the forbidden topic.

“So tell me what's going on, sweetie. How are ya doin'?”

He knew this question would come sooner or later, couldn't expect his own mother to not ask about his well-being.

“Good. 'm doin' much better actually.” He means it, too. He _is_ doing a lot better, barely cries anymore and his anger and frustration towards Miranda and himself are slowly subsiding. It's mostly due to one person. He won't say that, though.

One long look, then:

“Are ya sure, my dear? Yer not drinkin' or hidin' away in yer house anymore?”  
He can't help but smile at her. She's sweet, his mom is, and she's still worried about him. He'll try to be a better son again. He owes it to her.

“I promise mom, I'm fine. 'm not great, but 'm getting there. And i'm busy with the show anyways, no chance of hidin' away anywhere.”

“What about the drinkin', Blake?”

It was bad, back then, right after he found out about Miranda's cheating. He'd been hiding in his mom's house, drinking himself unconscious almost every day, crying nonstop. And when it got too much for him, when his mom's comforting words and hugs had become more than he could bear, he'd left. Without a word. He'd only called her a handful of times during the past couple of months even though he knew she was worrying herself sick. He feels bad for it now, but he'd only been trying to survive.

“I stopped drinking a while ago, mom. 'n besides, Gwen threw out all the booze she could find, so I guess that's that.” Shit, he didnt' mean to bring her up.

“She did, huh?” The flicker of surprise and wonder in his mom's eyes doesn't escape him.

“Yeah, uhm.. Had a bad night, couple o' weeks ago, bit too much to drink. Texted her 'n eventually she got rid'o it.” He can see the endless amount of questions forming in her eyes and he's almost sure he will have to explain his difficult relationship with Gwen now.

“I talked to Adam a few days ago.” Oh.

“About?”  
“You. 'n about how yer doin'. He told me about how close you 'n Gwen have become, told me that she's goin' through a divorce, too.” It's a question, not a statement.

“She's a good person, mom. She's kind 'n warm 'n _honest_ 'n she's been through so much crap, it's ridiculous. She's good for me right now; helps me a lot.”

She nods in confirmation, a small smile playing on her lips.

“That's what Adam said.”  
He laughs out loud at that. But it's dangerous, too, that his friends are starting to notice their connection and how much time they spend together.

“Of course he did. He's had a crush on her since he was like 15.”  
“But do you?” Crap.

“Everyone does, mom. She's freakin' Gwen Stefani.” Humor to deflect a situation, like his own mother doesn't know him.

She musters him for a minute and then a bright smile erupts on her face.

“I'm just sayin' that ya look good, Blake. Healthy 'n like yer feelin' much better. And if that's Gwen's doin' 'n ya have a lil' crush on her, then I'm happy for ya. But please don't get yer heart broken again.”

He nods in agreement, tells her that he won't and that he's more careful now. He can't shake the feeling, though, that it might already be too late.

They spend a nice evening with his sister and her kids, they laugh a lot (he's surprised that he feels an actual resemblance of happiness again and he can tell that his family is surprised too), they talk and it's almost like it was a few months ago. Back when he still had a ring on his finger and a wife by his side. When he leaves, his mom see's him off with a big hug and a teary-eyed “Thank Gwen, from me. K?”

He smiles in return.

 

He texts her again that night.

  
**Saw my mom today. She wants me to thank ya for takin care of me.**

**Wow. I don't know what to say.**  

A few seconds later:  
  
**Hope you told her about how you're saving me. Mom's like to hear that their kids are heroes :) gx**  

He smiles at his screen and gently traces the words with his finger. God, he needs to get a grip.

**You should tell her yourself, some day.**

It takes her about an hour to reply and when her text comes through, he's already curled up on his empty bed.

**Montana is beautiful and relaxing. The kids are having a blast.**

Another minute passes by and then his heart skips a beat when he takes in her next words.

**I had no idea, I would miss you this much.**

Attached is a picture of her beautiful face, barely covered in make up, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders and the pillow she's resting on, her full lips forming a sad pout.

He knows he's got it bad when his heart starts racing inside of his chest and the big, dimpled smile refuses to leave his face for the rest of the night.

**I can't wait to see you again.**

* * *

On day three he manages to not text her all day. He thinks they might have gone too far with their texts the night before, thinks this comfortable 'friendship' they've built is slowly spiraling out of control.

He can admit now, at least to himself, that he wants Gwen Stefani. And technically that's fine. He's separated and so is she, in a few weeks from now they'll be divorced and their marriages had been over for ages anyways. They're both single people who've been through hell and back and they're allowed to have fun, are _obligated_ to look for a distraction and happiness, actually. The problem is, he reasons, that he knows he doesn't want Gwen for sex. Yes, she's hot and most days she looks like sex on legs and everything about her is seducing, but if he wanted someone purely to get Miranda out of his system and to feel alive and like a man again, then he could go into a bar and find a random girl to fuck. Gwen is not that girl. She's innocent and pure, she's got the biggest heart and kindest soul, she's the most badass rocker he's ever met, but she's also soft in spirit and he couldn't bring himself to _use_ her. He knows that if they ever go down that path, he'll want everything, not just the sex. It's bad. He's got it bad.

So he doesn't text her. Not this day, not the day after and not the day after that.

He hangs with friends, spends some more time hunting and fishing, does some work on his ranch and even starts writing a few lines here and there. It's almost back to normal, his life, almost back to how it's always been. There's just one tiny detail that's changed- when he's lying in bed at night feeling lonely and sad, it's not his ex wife his thoughts are straying to, it's Gwen. He thinks about how warm her laugh is and her little hands, how good it had felt to be held and comforted by her; he thinks about their deep conversations and dumb jokes. He wonders, how good her lips would feel on his.

 

It's late Saturday night when he gets her call. It had been raining all day and he'd stayed in the house for most parts of it, doing some work here and there, watching back some Voice Battle rounds to prepare for Monday's taping of the Knockouts, trolling some haters on twitter and then he'd settled down on the couch with a beer in his hand and Betty cuddling up next to him. He'd be on a flight back to LA tomorrow morning and so would Gwen.

He'd been playing around with the idea of texting her all day but he'd managed to stop himself. And there wasn't really that much to say anyways. He needed distance.

 

That's what he thought, at least. Until.. _she_ called.

“Well hi there, cowgirl” he can't help but tease and he's grateful for the beautiful laugh he gets in return.

“What, 's that some kind of fantasy you have, Blake?” That, he didn't expect. Fuck.

“You better be careful asking those questions, darlin'” His voice sounds rough to his own ears and he's _sure_ she can hear the desire seeping through it. The silence that follows is slightly awkward.

She giggles again then (his face breaks out in a smile as soon as he hears the sound and he wonders what the _fuck_ is wrong with him).

“Sorry, had a couple glasses of wine.” Back to shy, it is.

“So, whatya callin' me for, pretty girl? How was yer vacation?” He can hear her walking around in the background and then there's some rustling and shuffling. She's probably packing for her flight back.

“Good. It's been good, really.” Hesitation. Then:

“Do you have time? Can I tell you something?”

“Always, Gwen.” He knows it's gonna be a long night when he hears the creaking of her bed and the rustling sheets.

“It's been a really weird week, y'know. Like, I was so excited to come here and hang with my kids and just enjoy some alone time away from everything but I just, I don't know. It's not what I thought it would be” She wanted to be alone, but she didn't expect to be _lonely_. He tells her that as well and her answer is a deep sigh. She knows he's right.

“I didn't miss _him_. And I haven't cried all week. And I haven't felt really miserable in a while and I thought I was _finally_ getting somewhere. 'n then this week happened and I realized that I'm not better yet. Or fine. I know it's a long way to go and that I have to be patient and take time to heal but fuck, it's so exhausting.”

He nods in agreement, even though she can't see him. He'd realized the same thing this week.

“I just wanna live, Blake. I'm not asking to be happy all of the sudden, I just wanna feel _something_ again. Something that's not pain or anger or sadness, y'know.”

“So do it.”  
She huffs out a laugh at this and he can practically see her run a frustrated hand through her hair. He wants it to be his hand one day.

“'m serious Gwen. Ya should do whatever the hell ya wanna do. We've been through so much crap, we deserve that. We shoul' just stop givin' a fuck and do whatever makes us happy or takes our mind off of things.”  
At this point he's not sure if they're just talking about life anymore or if this is about them. If she contemplates a _them_.

“What if we end up getting hurt?” Maybe she does.

“I dunno, Gwen. Guess we'll cross that bridge when we get there.”

The silence that follows is comfortable and he settles further into his couch, opening another can of beer.

“Did I tell you I wrote a song last week? Before I got to Montana? Been listening to it all week.”

“What's it 'bout? The divorce?”

“Hmm. Not really, no. It's more about, I dunno. Trying to be brave, I guess.” He smiles at that. She's brave, Gwen is, more brave then he'll ever be. She's a lot of amazing things, he'll never be.

“Can I listen to it?”

“Hell no!” Her laugh is real and loud and he wonders how one can get so addicted to a sound that fast.

“Why not? We've shared tons of shit.”  
“Not this kind of shit.” Her voice is shy and soft and just a little bit daring. He won't ask for more. He _does_ want to kiss her, though.

“You still feeling lonely?”

“Not anymore.” Pause.

“You make it better. You always do.” He wonders when she got so bold. His answer gets stuck in his throat so he humms in reply instead, waiting for her to continue.

 

“I want to live, Blake.” He inhales a harsh breath. It's an acknowledgment. It's an offer.

Finally.

“So do I, Gwen.”

  
They don't say a word after that, just stay silent in acceptance of the inevitable.

 

_They_ were inevitable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you liked this chapter in the comments, they're my version of burgers and fries ;)  
> I'll try to update as soon as possible. ♥


	5. Diving in.

 

Needy. Of all the words that have been used to describe her in the past, she thinks 'needy' might be the most fitting, the one that's always stuck with her.

She's been like this since she can remember, her neediness varying in degrees. As a little girl she'd been needy for the love and affection of her parents (you tend to get lost in the shuffle with three other siblings, especially when you're the quiet, unobtrusive one), as a teenager she'd been needy for her boyfriend's approval and for a creative outlet. When she was dating Tony she'd wanted him to spend more time with her, share more of his life with her, think about a real future with her. When she told him, he'd called her 'needy'.

And then she'd met Gavin. His darkness and unpredictability had been addicting from the moment she laid eyes on him, the moment she decided she wanted him. So naturally, when she noticed that he wasn't all that interested in her, she'd started to hunt him down. She'd become needy again. For _his_ approval, _his_ affection, _his_ love and for some reason, even though everyone had told her otherwise (maybe she was too young or being naive, maybe she was clinging to the dream of the happy family she so desperately wanted for herself) she thought his antics would change as soon as he fell in love with her, as soon as they got married. They didn't. For years and years to come, she would still find herself needy for him and his love, for safety and trust, for a faithful husband. He'd called her out on it, too. Had told her on numerous occasions that no one wanted a needy or clingy wife, that _he_ didn't want a needy and clingy wife.

The word had stuck with her ever since, had been one of her biggest insecurities. Had been as present in her life as the platinum blonde locks on her head and her signature red lips.

 

She'd been needy when _he_ came back from Oklahoma, too. Maybe even before that, when she was lying in a cold bed in the middle of nowhere in Montana, feeling herself missing his voice and dimples, his comforting touch and kind words. She'd called him then, shared her sudden realization that no, she couldn't keep living like this forever, that she was finally done mourning after a marriage that had been destructive from the very beginning. She'd avoided thinking like this for the longest time. She'd ignored Gavin's infidelities for years, ignored the inevitable end of their marriage for the last couple of months and then avoided using the word 'divorce' because it meant finality- the end of the life she's known and grown to love for the past 20 years. She'd learned how to fight for her kids, her marriage and her family, but how to fight for herself, for getting back her own life? She had no idea how to do that.

Bathing in self pity, on the other hand, was comforting, because as long as she was hiding in her bed, crying, feeling sorry for herself, she didn't have to face the world, the reality of her horrendous situation, the heart-wrenching pain and soul-consuming sadness that came with thinking about the end of her family and moving on with her life. It had been safe, in a really screwed-up kinda way, but it had almost felt normal, comforting. She'd become a master at dealing with feeling numb and exhausted over the years. Fighting her way out of it, taking control of her life again, learning to live without a husband (she didn't really miss him, more like the concept of having him), without her kids half of the time, with the shattered dream of her pitch perfect family, had been a whole different story.

Blake had helped her, though. He'd been her savior, somehow, a guardian angel almost. It had come as a surprise, quite frankly, because as much fun as they had on the show, as little did they know about each other personally. And for her to trust a 'stranger', a casual acquaintance, took a lot.

What she didn't expect was the realization that came with being away from him for a week. The sudden need to hear his voice and see his smile had come as a surprise. His texts hadn't. Of course she'd noticed the change in their relationship (she might be an emotional mess and somewhat inexperienced in navigating her way around starting new relationships, but she's not dumb or oblivious), noticed the way he stared at her differently these days, the way their hugs were slightly too long, their conversations always bordering on the edge of flirty. She'd dismissed it as a fleeting crush, though (he's a man who hasn't had sex in a long time and she's aware of the fact that she's not ugly), was almost sure she was just leching onto the next available man, who would be willing to function as a distraction for her. That is, until she realized that she didn't miss _a man's voice_ but his southern drawl, slightly raspy; that she didn't miss _a man's_ touch, but his warm calloused hands, tenderly stroking her cheek or protectively hovering over her lower back, giving her a sense of safety.

She missed _Blake_.

* * *

She'd dropped of the boys at Gavin's house right after they landed and asked Blake to come over as soon as she got home. She knew he was back from Oklahoma (he had texted her a simple “Hate that fuckin' L.A traffic” earlier and she figured it was his way of letting her know he got back safe, without making a big deal out of it) and she didn't see the point in waiting til tomorrow to see him, especially not now that they'd acknowledged the vague possibility of a 'more than friends' kinda relationship.

She knows she offered herself to him, in a sense, knows that even though she hadn't used those exact words, she _had_ asked him to try and make her happy. And it had been as scary as it had been exhilarating to hear his acceptance, his acknowledgment that yes, he wanted her too. It hadn't been a deal or a promise. It had been _something_ though, and she couldn't wait to explore what exactly.

Naturally, she'd thrown herself at him the moment he stepped into her house, the way his body felt against hers in their tight embrace so familiar it almost hurt.

 

“Hi” - a shy giggle.

“Hi” - a dimpled grin.

 

There's too much to say, so they don't say anything at all. Settle down on her couch instead, sitting close but not too close, knees touching, uncomfortable silence.

“Gwen..” He hesitates, clearly not knowing what to say and it's unsettling to her. Sitting in silence with Gavin had always been awkward, heavy with untold secrets and exposed lies. With Blake, though? She'd never felt more comfortable with anyone.  
“This is ridiculous, Blake.” He huffs out a laugh at that, rubs the back of his neck with a nervous hand and nods his head briefly.

“You're right.”

They'd somewhat relaxed after that. Talked about this and that, opened a bottle of wine and started to watch some mindless TV, trying to settle into their new role of.. whatever they are after that last revealing phone call. They weren't quite back to being _them_ though, too many unspoken words piling up and that's unsettling to her as well, because she used to appreciate the hell out of the fact that she and Blake didn't have secrets, bluntly talked about everything that came to mind.

“I missed you, y'know.” she's being brave today, she thinks.

He humms in reply, a deep growl from the back of his throat and she wants to jump him right then and there but that might be too much bravery at once.

His lack of words and intense stare are unnerving at first (he's good with talking about his feelings usually), the spider of insecurity and rejection slowly crawling into her head once again.

He saves her from herself though, right before she starts word vomiting and embarrassing herself, and she's so grateful she wants to kiss him.

“It's been a weird week. Awfully quiet. _Lonely_.” She swallows audibly at the expression on his face. Stormy blue eyes. Desire. Lust.

“ _Lonely._ ” she whispers in agreement.

He stares for a moment longer, internally fighting with himself, she can tell. Then he smiles shyly, a barely there blush creeping up his neck, and points at the TV.

“Show me some of yer music. 've never seen yer videos.” She won't be the one to make the first move. He's not ready yet.

She raises an eyebrow at him and then obliges.

They have some more wine and talk about their vacations. She shows him some of her favorite videos and she makes fun of him when he's singing along passionately to “Rich Girl”. It shouldn't have been different than any other time. But somehow it is.

They're sitting closer than usual. She's suddenly aware of his arm around her, softly stroking the naked skin of her shoulder. Her hand comes to touch his thigh briefly when she enthusiastically shows him a video of one of her favorite concerts and doesn't leave it again. She can feel the warmth radiating from his body and feels the vibration of his laugh, when she tells him that she'd put him on a flight back to Oklahoma if he ever grew his mullet back. They share laughs and jokes and childhood stories and they flirt even more than they usually do. Little touches here and there that she knows will drive him crazy (a soft stroke with her thumb across his thigh, her breasts innocently pressing into his chest when she leans over to take the remote from him, her breath tickling the skin of his neck once in a while when she leans in a little bit too close to whisper the lyrics into his ear). She's playing with fire, she's aware of that, because playing with fire is fun and she deserves fun after all the crap she's been through; and because she can't be the one to make the first move (she might be brave, but not brave enough to put everything on the line again) and feels like Blake needs a sign, _anything_ to see that it's ok to go further. That she's fine (not just fine, thrilled actually) with whatever might happen between them tonight.

She's not sure what to expect, but at this point she's hoping for sex (lots and lots of amazing sex) because quite frankly, it's been too long, and she feels on edge and she wants Blake badly (who would've thought) and because their flirting had been going on for way too long.

His hand is warm on her cheek, rough palm caressing her skin. She wonders what his touch would feel like on the inside of her thighs, on her breasts, on her bare back and she inhales a harsh breath.

“Gwen..” Azure blue eyes. Slightly parted lips.

She's sure. _So_ sure. But:  
“What are we doing, Blake?” She doesn't recognize her own voice. It's barely a whisper, vulnerable but demanding at the same time. _Horny_.

“Dunno, but 'm gonna kiss ya now.” It's a low growl more than anything and she has the audacity to whimper in surprise when his lips meet hers, before she looses conscious control over everything else.

It's soft at first, _so_ soft, just like Blake's personality, just like everything he does. They find their rhythm relatively quickly, a small pull of lips here, a not so careful bite there and then she deepens the kiss. It's not enough. _He's_ not enough. And yet, it's more than she's ever dreamed of. He moans into her mouth when their tongues finally meet and before she can react, he pulls her on his lap – impatient hands on her ass, lips insistent on hers. After a few minutes she breaks away, trying to catch her breath, but his hot mouth on her ear, her neck, her pulse point makes all the air rush out of her lungs. Needing more friction, more _contact_ , she starts grinding down on him- small undulating rolls against his hardening cock beneath his jeans and he groans in response. It's a low, raspy sound from the back of his throat and she can feel more than see him bring his hands up between them, opening her blouse with trembling hands and then pulling it off of her in a flash. They lock eyes then, his stormy blues meeting her molten chocolate ones and she wonders if he can see the desire pooling in hers as much as she can see the lust reflecting in his.

Another hot open mouthed kiss.

Another slow grind.

Another gasp.

“Fuck Blake, I need you.” He nods his head frantically in response, his lips sucking on the delicate skin of her neck, while his hands move back to her waist, picking her up from the couch effortlessly.

* * *

His bedroom is huge, and so is his bed. White linen sheets, cold and crisp under her bare back. Blake discards his shirt without prelude before resting his body between her legs, his lips back on her throat immediately. Then on her collarbone, her chest, between her breasts and finally, _finally_ on her hardening nipples, covered in red lace. He takes of her bra without hesitation and no one could blame her for the moan that escapes her lips when his mouth finally makes contact with her rosy peaks – licking, sucking, _biting_. “Fuck Blake, I swear if you don't..” He laughs into her chest. It's cruel but it's good too and she pulls on his curls to meet his mouth again. It's all teeth and tongue and it's hot, so damn _hot_ when he moans into her lips. He's distracted and so she opens his belt and pulls down his jeans and boxers, leaving him naked on top of her. “Gwen..” it's nothing more than a growl, desire rolling off of his body in waves. “Now, Blake. _Please._ ” He smashes his mouth into hers once more, before moving it south, past her nipples (and hello, why did he not stop there), along the creamy skin of her stomach, until he reaches her pants. He slides them off of her without another glance and rips off her panties too. “Fuck Gwen, you're hot. So _damn hot_.” He's using all his self-control not to take her right then and there, she can tell, so she pushes her hips into his, shamelessly. There'll be time to go slow later. He curses when her wet crotch makes contact with his cock and she moans, arousal streaming through her veins, making her head spin and her eyes close in pleasure. There's no better feeling then him sliding up hard against her, until.. “Shit.” His mouth is hot on her center, his tongue licking into her with deep, long strokes, blowing wetly on her clit. She gasps, her grip on the white sheets tightening and pushes up into his face. He's smiling into her and the vibration of his laugh _righ_ t where she needs him the most is almost her undoing. “Enough Blake, _please, please, please_.” She's needy again. But for the first time in her life, she doesn't mind, doesn't feel self-conscious about it.He pulls away then, sitting up in front of her. Dark eyes, roaming her body, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead, chest heaving with deep breaths. He strokes himself, one, two, three times – his pupils dilated, blown wide with lust. She can't help but squirm underneath him, his strength and arousal turning her on beyond belief and she swears, if he doesn't..

“Oh.” It's a soft sound, half stuck in her throat when her breath catches. The tip of him enters her slowly until she pushes her hips up to meet his and then he slides in all the way. One deep stroke.  
He whimpers (she doesn't think she's ever heard him make that sound) and buries his head in her neck, breathing deeply for a moment, before he starts thrusting into her. His movements are slow, almost careful at first until she pulls him down for another kiss, their lips clashing together, her hands scratching down his broad back. He groans into her mouth and his hips stutter against hers before he picks up speed, hitting all the right spots. She's not gonna last that much longer.“Fuck, Blake. I can't” He bites down on the soft spot where her shoulder meets her neck in response and the words get stuck in her throat, before she cries out his name. His movements are faster now, jerkier and she knows he's on edge too. She lets her hands wander down his body once again, her nails finding his ass and digging into the flesh she finds there- pressing him into her even more, spurring on his new found rhythm. Her orgasm hits her in surprise mid-kiss and Blake muffles her cries with his mouth while she tightens around him, pulling him in even deeper. He falls apart on top of her a few moments later, emptying himself into her, while she's still riding her wave of pleasure- back arching, breasts pressed into him, obscenities leaving her half-opened mouth. When she finally opens her eyes to look at him, her heart skips a beat. Her name is falling off his lips like a prayer, his eyes are closed from pleasure, dark curls are sticking to his forehead, a red splotched face. He's never been more beautiful.

* * *

“Do you regret it?” His voice is quiet behind her, careful, and if she didn't know better, she'd say that there's a hint of fear there, too. She can't blame him though, had turned her back to him the moment she came down from her high, had tensed up when she felt him softly stroking her naked back.

Her answer doesn't come right away, because no, she doesn't regret it (she hadn't had this kind of sex in years and it was even better than she dared to hope), but she's also an emotional mess these days and now has to admit that maybe, possibly, she hadn't been ready for that step yet.

“Wow, Gwen.” The rejection and anger in his voice is too loud in the otherwise quiet house. The disappointment and pain even louder.

Fuck, of course he'd noticed her hesitation.

She hears him shift behind her, feels a chilly breeze hit her heated skin when he pulls back the covers. It's when he's sitting to get up that she's finally regaining her senses and turns to stop him.

“Blake, no. That's not what I meant.”

Her hand is tight around his wrist but he shakes it off as if it were nothing, blindly reaching for his shirt that's been thrown on the floor earlier.

“I don't regret it, Blake.” Her voice is nothing but a whisper. She's scared, suddenly. Of him leaving or staying, she's not sure.

He stops moving immediately but he's still refusing to look at her. He's trying to protect himself, his feelings. She gets it.

“You're not him, though.” It would be a cruel statement, if they were in any other situation, but she's sure he'll get it. _Hopes_ , he'll get it. As good as it's been that he's the polar opposite of Gavin in so many ways (she trusts him more already than she's trusted her ex-husband for years), it's been just as confusing – sleeping with a man that's not her husband, _wanting_ a man that's not her husband.

He doesn't say anything though, so she turns around again, buries her face in the pillows because fuck, she can't watch another man leave.

She feels the bed dip again and then his warm breath is on her neck.

He sighs- a relieved, soft kinda sigh and her heartbeat picks up in response.

“I know.” A peace offering.

“I'll never be him, Gwen. And I hope that one day, you'll realize that that's a good thing. That you don't need another _him_ in your life.”

He pulls away again, laying on his back and exhales deeply.

“This wasn't for the sex, Gwen.” He's being brave, again. She admires that.

“If I wanted sex or casual or whatever the hell it is, I could've gone to a bar to pick up a random girl or I could've fucked one of the groupies at my last concert. I don't do that, Gwen. You're not that girl.”

They're quiet for a few minutes and she turns around to look at him. She's not sure what he's offering. Not sure, if she can accept.

“I care 'bout ya a lot, Gwen. And yeah, I dunno how far 'm willin' to go at this point, but whatever this is, I'm not gunna hurt ya. 'n I'm willing to see where it goes. And whatever happens, we can always go back to bein' friends, k?”

She knows they won't be able to do that. She hopes, they won't have to.

“I don't do one night stands, Blake. But this isn't, I can't..” His finger on her lips silences her and god, she's so grateful, she wants to kiss him again.

“I'm still too broken, Blake.”

A nod.

“Me too, darlin'”

“C'mere.” He pulls her into him, his warm chest and steady heartbeat strangely familiar and comforting.

“Slow 'n easy Gwen, ok? No pressure, no expectations, just you and me, darlin'. Can we do that?”

She looks at him, his blue eyes sparkling with adoration and love, hope even. No, she's not ready for a relationship yet. _This_ ,she can do, though.

“Just you and me.”  
A nod.

A soft kiss.

A shy giggle.

 

Slow and easy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys :) I hope you liked it, and as always: let me know what you think in the comments ♥
> 
> P.S.: I'm gonna be on vacation for a bit more than a week, so my next update will take a while. I'm gonna keep writing, obviously, but i'm not gonna be able to post it before the 20th.


	6. Distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well. Long time no seen, my friends :D  
> After almost 6 months I've finally managed to get another chapter done. Who would've thought? :D  
> I'm really sorry, I didn't update any sooner, but life has been busy and I've had a huuge writer's block with this story. Still kinda do, that's why this chapter is more like a filler to get back into the story.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it, even though you probably have to read the rest of the story again, cause it's been ages. Ha!  
> ♥

 

August 2015

 

Starting to sleep with Blake is the second best decision she's made this year. She's sure of that. It's starting to be more than just sleeping together, she's sure of that, too. It's become a need rather than a wish, being close to him, feeling his arms around her body, hearing him talk to her in his soothing Southern drawl. The last three weeks they spent together are like a blur to her. All she really remembers is happiness and joy, laughter and pure bliss. Initially they had agreed to take it slow and easy, to go with the flow and take baby steps. Looking back, however, she's pretty sure they'd unconsciously come to the mutual conclusion, that fast and head over heels is a better pace to set. She still remembers the first morning they woke up together (after she had her little meltdown the night before and almost screwed up the best thing that's happened to her in years), tangled up in her sheets with the biggest smiles on their faces. They'd agreed on having dinner again that night but Blake had somehow ended up staying at her place all day, and then all week, just going home to get a change of clothes, and it felt so normal to have him around, so comforting to not be alone anymore, that she missed him like crazy on the days they couldn't spend together.

That's probably why she finds herself on the couch of her empty mansion on a lonely Tuesday night, instead of in Blake's kitchen, drinking wine and stealing kisses while he's cooking dinner. Her house is quiet, void of her children's laughter and she hasn't felt quite this lonely in a long time. She misses him and that's so goddamn frustrating to her because staying away from him for the last few days had been her attempt to prove that she doesn't need him. That she's not getting in too deep. That she's not starting to irrevocably fall for him. But here she is, sipping on her second glass of wine, staring at the wall, getting lost in thoughts of him. Of _them_. Again.

_Waking up to his broad chest pressed into her back, his calloused hand softly stroking the bare skin of her stomach._

_Snuggling up to him under a blanket in front of his fire place while sharing childhood memories and secrets they've never told anyone before._

_His soft lips on hers – making her feel loved and treasured, making her forget the troubles of her past. Making her want more._

 

The sound of her phone is awfully loud in the otherwise empty house, startling her out of her most recent daydream.

**Got a question for you**

She can't help but smile reading his words. She knew it would be him before she even checked the incoming text but seeing his name illuminate the screen of her phone is a sight that never fails to excite her.

**Shoot.**

It doesn't even take him 30 seconds to answer.

**Why is your side of my bed empty right now?**

She swallows hard at that, her heart rate increasing slightly in panic and she can almost feel the color draining from her face. She takes another sip of her wine, just to ease her nerves and starts fumbling with the phone in her hands. She shouldn't _have_ a side. Their relationship shouldn't have progressed that far in only a couple of weeks. And yet..

**I'm busy with work, I told you.**

**Which is a lie. Try again.**

She flinches slightly at his words. Lying has never worked particularly well for her, not as a child, not as a grown up when she was trying to hide how upset or angry she was from Gavin, not right now. Because _of course_ Blake had noticed. He seems to know her better than she does herself these days and that's another thing that frightens her to her core. He wasn't _supposed_ to be that in tune with her. They weren't supposed to have this intense connection and she sure as hell wasn't supposed to develop all of these deep, gut- wrenching feelings for him.

After a few seconds of composing herself, she starts dialing his number with numb fingers. Distance was what she wanted these last few days (five to be exact) - to help her get back on track, to help her sort through her feelings. She's beginning to realize though, that it might be time for her to start acknowledging the intensity with which she's been missing her cowboy.

“I'd rather hear my door bell ring than my phone but I guess this works for now.” She can't help but giggle at his bluntness and is in awe at the same time. She's always admired his honesty, his ability to shoot straight, the way he doesn't even try to hide his want and need for her. It scares her too.

“Hi”

“Hi, sweetheart.” Blake is relieved to hear her voice, she knows that and she starts imagining his soft smile and sparkling blue eyes, the way his whole face lights up just from talking to her and she feels herself warm up from the inside, because gosh she really _did_ miss him.

But there's regret in his voice as well.

“I haven't seen you in four days.”

  
“Five.” Her answer is quick, too quick and she mentally slaps herself for not keeping her mouth shut. She sounds so needy and she hasn't been this embarrassed in a long time.

“So you _have_ been counting.” He's teasing and the slight tinge of pride in his voice doesn't escape her either. She knows she won't give in tonight, but she wants to give him _something_.

“I've missed you.”

“Come over then. Lets have dinner, talk...” He trails of, waiting for her reaction but for some reason she thinks he already knows what her answer is going to be.

“I want to Blake, I do. It's just, I..”

He sighs.

“You can't.”

“I can't”. She nods, even though he can't see her and she feels tears welling up in her eyes. Not now, gosh, now is not the time to cry.

They stay silent for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts, until she hears Blake's voice again. It's uncharacteristically cold. If she didn't know better she'd say he sounded defeated. Guarded.

“Why not?”

She shudders, curls her fingers around the glass of wine just a little bit tighter. She's close to losing control and Blake seems to be aware of that, too. She can't really afford to let her guard down but he's been the brave one throughout this whole _thing_ they've got going on and she wants him to know the truth, thinks that there's no one who deserves it more than him.

“I'm scared.” It's barely a whisper but he seems to have heard her.

“Of me?” 

“No! Yes. I don't know.” She lets out a frustrated sigh and gulps down the rest of her wine before placing the glass on the table in front of her with a loud clink. He's quiet on the other end of the line, waiting patiently for her to organize her thoughts and explain herself. And if the fact that he seems to know _exactl_ y what she needs right now doesn't frustrate her even more..

“'m not scared of you. I've never been scared of you. I _trust_ you. It's just....” She stops, takes a little break to gather some courage. “I trusted Gavin, too.”

She hears his sharp intake of breath, closes her eyes shut and presses her phone even closer to her ear, as if that would make him answer any faster. She's holding her breath, waiting for him to blow up.

He doesn't.

“I'm not him, Gwen. You know that. And I'll never be him.” It's a take it or leave it statement. He sounds calm and collected and he's right. She knows he's not like Gavin. In any way. He's a better man by far.

“And still that doesn't make me any less afraid of getting my heart broken again.”

His silence is deafening. Gwen's not used to being like this with him. She's used to him making her laugh with silly jokes or just by being his goofy self; is used to talking to him for hours straight without running out of things to say, she's used to just laying with him, enjoying each others company in a comfortable, peaceful silence.

“I was trying so hard not to miss you, Blake. I thought that maybe, if we didn't see each other for a few days, I'd be able to function again. But I just can't. You're always on my mind, no matter what I'm doing or who I'm with and it's freaking me the fuck out. It's cazy Blake, all of this is so crazy and we're moving so fast and it's overwhelming. But I don't wanna slow down either. And that's crazy too, cause what if I get used to this? What if I start falling for you even more?”

She lets out a shaky breath, nervously carding her hand trough her blonde locks and curls up into a ball under the heap of blankets on her couch. She's relieved now that she's done word vomiting all over the place because it feels so good to finally get all of this off of her chest, to finally be completely honest with Blake. She coughs lightly, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat and swallows down some of her tears.

“What if you change your mind?” There it was. The one thought that has been plaguing her since the day they started this _thing_ between them. That one fear she couldn't get rid of, no matter how affectionate and loving, how respectful and honest Blake had been with her. That one thought that made her heart ache and her insides clench in agony.

She hears him swallow hard through the phone, his breath as shaky as hers and she swears she would see tears pool in his eyes if he was next to her right now.

When he starts talking again, however, his voice is strong, resolute.

“I won't.”

“How can you be so sure?” He doesn't say anything for a few moments and that in itself is torture enough. She's literally sitting on the edge of her couch, her heart racing in anticipation.

When he finally answers, she swears it misses a beat.

“Because I'm falling for you, too.”

* * *

It's still dark when she startles from her dream. The curtains covering the big glass windows to her backyard are drawn shut, the sheer parts of the silver material barely leaving room for a glimmer of moonshine to make it's way into her bedroom. Blake's body is warm beneath her, his steady heartbeat soothing, lulling her back into a light daze. She feels calm. For the first time in forever. Maybe it's his giant palm on her waist that's holding her close (He's protective in a comforting kind of way, not possessive like her ex-husband used to be), maybe it's his warm breath on her face, the heat of his naked body under her hands, or maybe it's just his presence – the fact that she's not alone between the cold sheets of her bed anymore. The fact that she's not _lonely_ anymore either.

Blake had showed up on her door step about 15 minutes after they hung up and the relief washing over her at the sight of him was so overwhelming, she had to tighten her grip on the door knob, afraid her knees would give out. He had stared at her intently, his beautiful lips curled up in a careful smile, his posture tense, almost as if he was afraid of her reaction. She giggled at his nervousness then; couldn't help that beaming grin taking over her features and then his arms were around her and she finally felt like she was home again. He had kept his word and cooked dinner for her, they'd talked for hours, had laughed and goofed around, had made out on her kitchen counter and finally settled down on the couch to watch a movie together. They didn't define their relationship or had “the talk” about where they see this going but somehow, for some reason, everything had changed. For the first time since they started this thing between them, she felt thoroughly at ease. She still can't believe that one simple sentence of this beautiful man next to her had managed to calm her restless mind and wandering thoughts; had erased most of her irrational fears and finally made her acknowledge the fact that she was indeed falling for this amazing cowboy. She shifts slightly at that thought, snuggles even closer into Blake's chest and exhales in a content sigh. Nothing beats the feeling of laying in your lover's arms in the middle of the night, when it's just you and your thoughts while the rest of the world is still peacefully asleep.

She knows she should go back to sleep soon, too. It can't be any later than 4 in the morning and that in itself is almost ironic too. She's always thought of her songs as precursors of the inevitable. Little (sometimes not so little) red flags on the side of the road that she chose to ignore, chose to push into the back of her mind because it was _better_ that way. This song in particular had been a massive red flag. Not feeling save, not feeling respected, not feeling like she was enough had haunted her throughout her whole marriage. The lack of affection, love and contentment had too.

But now here she is – in the arms of a cowboy who's gentler than any man she's ever met, who brings her joy in the darkest of times and makes her laugh when she doesn't really have any reason to smile at all. He's not perfect, in some ways he might even be more broken and fragile than she is. It doesn't worry her though, makes him more real, more human. The lack of nagging doubts and insecurity when it comes to his honesty, surprises her too. He makes her feel save. Makes her feel loved. The pure thought of that is what scared her senseless in the first place.

Suddenly his grip on her waist tightens, trying to hold her close to him as her mind is still telling her to run. He must've felt her restlessness and his perceptiveness when it comes to her feelings and needs, scares her as well. The fact that he's so in tune with her, seems to know her so well...

“Go back to sleep, baby. 'm right here.” She feels him press a soft kiss to her forehead and then his thumb is stroking the naked skin of her stomach ever so lightly. And then _it's back_ – the ache in her chest, the flutter of her heart, the feeling of being loved.

Maybe. Just maybe, she thinks, he's _it_. The one thing that made all the pain of the last twenty years worth it – her destiny. And maybe, she thinks, maybe she deserves him after all that she's been through.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it!  
> I'm always super happy about comments, so tell me what you think ☺  
> I'm not sure when i'm gonna update again, cause i don't really know where i see this story going yet, but I'll probably be back soon.
> 
> Love, Jess ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Soo, this was the first chapter and as I said, it's mostly an explanation of what might've happened before the actual story line starts. Sorry if it was too long and drawn-out for you ;)  
> I'll try to update as soon as possible.
> 
> Let me know if you liked it in the comments and if you have any ideas or wishes for future fanfics - gimme gimme gimme!
> 
> ♥


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